Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Strangers

The Last Time I Danced

Grocery store run
Jeans with a big raggy hole
where my knee protrudes
Tan sneaks with pink shoelaces
(no big panama with a purple hat band…
but then, that’s a long time ago)

Chugging along with a cart full of
healthy foods for our responsible diet
and in consideration that we are both
in our 50s now and then

over the intercom

“Dancin’ in the Street”

Martha and the Vandellas,
none of that Mick and whosis crap

Another woman looks at me from
the cereal section and then we both
lay excited eyes on a dude in
Harley jacket and old boots
trolling the Gatorade

Who’s on first?

As if you have to ask

I take the lead line, inciting the riot

The three of us break into song
and dance like the freaks we were
like the freaks we still are
with every ounce of hippie left in us

She’s showin her tat of Marley on her
left arm, he’s swappin a picture of Jesus
on the back of his neck and me, I got no marks
but smile lines chiseled on my cheeks

We’re reeling in total abandon and
oblivious to the folks at either end of the aisle
Even the vegetable guy left his post
And at the fadeout, we’re fading out too
back to our carts as though nothing happened

The other shoppers burst into applause
and we all run back together in the
middle of the aisle to take a bow and
hug each other like there’s no tomorrow

Haven’t seen them again
Perhaps we were all each other’s angels
if only for that moment
Reminders that you can always let that
freak flag fly high enough to glide
as long as you keep enough freak inside

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse, who called for Carefree Hours, or the last time you did something out of pure delight. This is delight, rebellion, and a three-person unplanned flash mob all in one package! Also for “Strange Bedfellows” at Sunday Scribblings and “Walk of Life” at Poetic Bloomings. I don’t walk; I dance, and as for strange bedfellows, I thought it would be nice to have them be total strangers with something in common but NO business dancing in the middle of the grocery store!! Peace, Amy


Laundromat

Wasted the night before,
I’d screwed the chance
to do my dirty laundry.

Doobie ashes on the floor
Discretion cracked open,
my values in a quandary.

“Don’t do strangers,”
was always my creed,
but he’d been on my couch

‘cause he possessed dangers
highlighting my need…
Granite jaw, killer slouch.

Now, in desperation,
I’m at the Rinse ‘n’ Spin
‘til cleansed, my clothes are done.

Cheap soil eradication
but it won’t remove sin…
A revolution!  Fridays are fun!

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the Sunday Whirl, with thanks to Brenda; Wordle words are in bold. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Strangers were never in my romantic repertoire! Amy